


Perfect Pair

by kueble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29780883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: Jaskier is hurt on a hunt, and Geralt thinks this is how he loses him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 167





	Perfect Pair

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this art](https://twitter.com/Sinahc1/status/1365533431526879245?s=20) by Sinahc. Linked with her permission, and definitely worth checking out. Everything she's done is amazing.

It’s all his fault.

This is going to be how he loses Jaskier, and it’s _all his fault_. Geralt tosses down his sword as soon as the fiend takes its last gurgling breath and races over to his lover. Jaskier’s doublet is stained with blood, the fabric torn where the fiend’s antlers caught him. It’s proof that Geralt wasn’t quick enough; wasn’t good enough to stop this from happening.

Jaskier is breathing, but it’s broken and shallow. There’s blood - so much fucking blood - and Geralt can’t do anything to stop it. He presses a hand against Jaskier’s shoulder, desperate to stop the flow, but it’s slowly oozing through his gloved fingers.

Why hadn’t he listened? Why didn’t he stay back at the inn? What song could be worth this? Geralt’s thoughts race as he holds the bard in his arms. He cups the back of his neck and sobs. If only he’d spotted him earlier, maybe he could have gotten between him and the beast. His mind is a constant replay of the attack, of the way Jaskier flew through the air after being gored by the raging fiend. 

Jaskier’s eyes are closed, and Geralt realizes he’ll never see that shade of bright blue again. He’ll never wake up to Jaskier’s light snores against his neck and his warm body sprawled across him. Those cherished early mornings are dying, bleeding out on the dirt beneath them. He brushes his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and tries to compose himself.

There are scratches across Jaskier’s face, blood welling up across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. A dark red line drips down the corner of his mouth, and Geralt tries to wipe it away, but it’s another slice through his perfect skin. He always joked that his beauty was the real moneymaker, his singing was just an afterthought, and Geralt can’t help blaming himself for ruining that too. 

Geralt’s built for this, made to handle blood and death, but he can’t focus right now. His heart is rabbiting in his chest in a way it never has before, beating against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. He presses a palm to his breast, as if he can calm his pounding heart. Time seems to slow when he realizes what’s there, hidden beneath his armor, hanging next to his medallion.

He scrambles to get a hand down his shirt and snags the amulet Triss had gifted him all those years ago. He never wore it before Jaskier entered his life, never saw the need for it. Now he just hopes it works. He tugs on the chain, breaking it and hastily presses the amulet into Jaskier’s hand, cupping their palms together around it.

“With this spell declared, let the pain be shared,” he clearly says the incantation. At first nothing happens, and he panics, but then there’s a bright flash of green light and suddenly pain sears through him. He can feel his own shoulder slicing open, can feel the blood seeping out of him, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. His body starts healing itself as soon as the wound opens, and he lays Jaskier down on the grass and tugs his doublet open, desperate to see his injury.

There’s a dark slash across his chest and shoulder, but the blood has stopped flowing. Geralt wipes at him with the ruined fabric of his shirt, needing to see the wound itself. He lets out another sob when he sees a bright pink scar, the flesh knitting itself together even as Geralt’s own body heals itself. He leans down and presses their foreheads together, gathering Jaskier in his arms and just holding him gently.

It takes awhile - far too long - but Jaskier stirs, his eyes slowly blinking open. He expects to see familiar blue eyes, but one is golden now, an exact mirror of his own. Geralt gasps at the sight and tightens his hold on his lover. Jaskier stares up at him, eyes wide as he reaches a hand out and touches Geralt’s cheek.

“Geralt?” he asks, voice cracking. He swallows thickly and tries again, “Geralt, what happened?”

“I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t fast enough and it got to you and...you almost died,” Geralt growls out. He looks away, too ashamed to keep Jaskier’s gaze, to see his stunning eyes ruined by his own inability.

“You saved me, love,” Jaskier tells him, struggling to sit up. He hisses as he moves, climbing into Geralt’s lap and settling onto his thighs. “I don’t know what you did, but you saved me. We’re ok now.”

“Your eyes,” Geralt starts to explain, but he trails off, not sure what to say. He hopes this isn’t the thing that pushes them apart for good, hopes that Jaskier will still want him now that he’s ruined his beauty.

“ _Your eyes_ ,” Jaskier counters, palming Geralt’s cheek and turning him to meet his gaze. “One of them looks like mine. What happened?”

“Spell. I took your pain, took your injury. I didn’t know it would change us,” Geralt admits softly. He tries to look away again, but Jaskier won’t let him, just holds him there.

“Mine match?” he asks, and Geralt nods sharply. “I’m glad. Now you’re marked as mine. Now you can’t get rid of me. We’re a perfect pair.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Oh darling,” Jaskier sighs and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. “You told me to stay behind because it was going to be a tough contract. I should have listened to you. I _will_ listen to you next time. This is entirely my fault and you _saved me_. Thank you.”

“Couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t,” he grumbles, but Jaskier just darts forward and kisses him again.

“Let’s get back to town and clean up. I can’t wait to see if I look as stunning as you do right now,” Jaskier tells him before standing up and reaching a hand out to help him to his feet.

“Of course you’d think it an improvement,” Geralt rolls his eyes and sets about collecting his trophy. Jaskier hangs back, grimacing as Geralt does what needs to be done.

Geralt doesn’t let go of his hand the whole way back to town, even when he drops the fiend’s head at the Alderman’s feet. Tomorrow he’ll write to Triss and find out if the spell has any other side effects they need to know about, but for right now he has a bard to take care of. After a well-earned bath, they spend the night curled up in bed, bodies tangled up as they relearn how they fit together.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com).


End file.
